


The Last Miracle

by courtingstars (FallingSilver)



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: 2020 Summer Olympics, Angst, Asexuality, Bad Decisions, Basketball, Drama & Romance, Eventual Happy Ending, Family Drama, Friendship, Future Fic, Good Decisions, Japanese Culture, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Sexuality, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-14 03:11:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9157645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallingSilver/pseuds/courtingstars
Summary: "Please, Grandpa! Tell me the story. About the Five Man Miracle."Six years after graduating high school, the Generation of Miracles have gone their separate ways. While preparing for the 2020 Tokyo Olympics, their former teammates come up with an idea to reunite them on the court. One problem: most of the Miracles have sworn off basketball. Aomine plays, but his NBA career pales in comparison to a certain rising star by the name of Kagami Taiga. Midorima has his future as a doctor all planned out. Akashi's life is dictated to him by his father. Kise and Murasakibara have their own reasons for never touching a basketball again. But when old romances rekindle, and friendships become more complicated, some of them rethink their decision. Before long, the Miracles stand at the epicenter of an international story of controversy and scandal. (And this whole brewing mess just might have Teikou written all over it.)But in the end, maybe they can make one last miracle happen. With the help of a certain phantom sixth man.It all starts at a wedding. A big rainbow wedding for this sixth man and his light, where some poor decisions are made."You remember, don't you... Shin-chan?"





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is my major project for this year, so I decided to post the epilogue today, as a preview for what's to come! I don't know exactly when I'll start posting new chapters, but if you're interested to read more, feel free to subscribe to this fic or to my stories. For more about the Last Miracle universe (most of my fics were written to lead up to this one) you can check out [my post here](http://courtingstars.tumblr.com/miracleverse) or [the fic tag here](http://courtingstars.tumblr.com/tagged/the%20last%20miracle). (And for those of you who are waiting for the next chapter of Storming the Castle, that will be posted tomorrow!) Thanks for reading!

A ten-year-old girl sat on her bed, gazing up at her wall screen. The massive display showed several videos at once. She grinned at the outdated images. They looked so blurry and flat, and didn’t have sensory data at all. Old technology was weird.

The videos were of basketball games. The players all wore shorts and loose jerseys. That looked weird too. Who even wore shorts anymore?

All around the room, the girl’s shelves had been programmed to hold sports memorabilia. Trophies from her league, jerseys, signed basketballs. On a high shelf, locked safely in a capsule, sat her favorite ball. A rainbow-striped one, with several names signed in kanji.

Those names belonged to her heroes. They were her role models, all of them.

The girl settled into her pillows, grabbed her favorite plush toy—a big green frog one of her grandfathers gave her—and told the A.I. to start a story. It was the same one she picked almost every night. The display shifted, and a new video started to play.

_“When it comes to the history of Olympic basketball, two teams are considered the most famous,”_ the narrator said in Japanese. The video was dull and grainy-looking. A caption underneath it read, “Barcelona, 1992.”

_“In 1992, professional players were allowed to compete in the Olympics for the first time,”_ the narrator continued. _“The U.S. men’s basketball team of ‘92 became the most famous team in Olympic history. Called the Dream Team, their success and fame was unprecedented. As a result, basketball’s international popularity soared.”_

The screen flashed through shots of each of the player’s faces. The girl recognized all of them. Larry Byrd, Magic Johnson, Charles Barkley… She knew their names and a lot about them, even though they had played so long ago.

_“At the center of the team was one of the most famous athletes of all time. He was certainly the world’s most famous basketball player, due to his renowned jumps…_

_“Michael Jordan, in his prime.”_

A clip played of Michael Jordan, leaping from the free throw line to dunk the ball. His most legendary move. The girl stared. She wished she could do that. He looked like he was flying.

She had seen something similar in virtual footage, too. Of another basketball player, who could dunk like that. She had watched it in three dimensions, where she could walk all around and sit there like she was actually in the stadium. It was even cooler then.

_“The Dream Team was considered a guaranteed success. True to expectations, they went undefeated, and easily won gold. They were superstars, from the country that dominated the sport since its inception._

_“The outlook was similar for the 2020 Olympics, in Tokyo.”_

The video changed again, to a certain opening ceremony. A logo flashed by, with five different colored cherry blossoms at the center. Kind of like a rainbow.

It wasn’t the final logo, the official one for those Olympics. But the girl knew why the A.I. was showing it.

_“Once again, the United States was expected to win gold. Japan would compete as the host country. But while there were a few promising Japanese players, expectations were at an all-time low, after the men’s team failed to even qualify for the 2016 Rio Olympics—”_

Footsteps sounded out in the hall. The girl straightened, ready to stop the story, only to fall back against the pillows when she saw who was coming. Her grandpa stood in the doorway, backlit by the light panels in the hall.

He wore his usual smile, the same one that had traced the upturned lines all around his eyes and mouth. His thinning black hair was shot with gray, and his silver-blue eyes darted around the room. Taking in everything, like always.

“Seriously, kiddo? You’re watching this stuff again?” He grinned even wider, and the skin around his eyes crinkled. “Don’t you get tired of it?”

The girl shook her head. The narrator was still speaking, in her precise, even voice. _“Unlike the Dream Team, the 2020 Japanese men’s team was a gamble that almost didn’t happen. From the outset, its formation was mired in controversy and scandal—”_

Her grandpa raised an eyebrow. “Perky, isn’t she? Sure plays up the doom-and-gloom angle.”

The girl gave him a sheepish look. “To be honest, this is kind of the boring version.” She raised her hand, and the narration stopped. “I like the way you tell it better.”

“Yeah, okay, I know that look.” Her grandpa laughed. “You’re supposed to be getting ready for bed.”

“Please! Mom won’t mind, I know it.”

“Nice try. Your mom definitely _will_ mind. And even if she doesn’t, your granddad will kill me.”

“So we won’t tell him,” she said. “Come on. Please.”

He cackled, and she knew she was about to clinch the victory.

“Please, Grandpa!” She clasped her hands, did her very best begging voice. “Tell me the story. About the Five Man Miracle.”

“ _Six_ Man Miracle,” he corrected. “Just because everyone else gets it wrong, doesn’t mean you get a pass.”

“But it isn’t six either, the way you tell it,” the girl said, looking confused. “What about all the people who—”

“It’s symbolic,” he said with a wave. “Look, you wanna hear this story or not?”

She settled back into her pillow, and tried her best to look well behaved.

“All right. Here we go.” Her grandpa braced a wrinkled hand on her bed, and eased onto the mattress beside her. “Once upon a time, at a high-and-mighty middle school named Teikou, there were five basketball prodigies with really weird hair. One day, they defeated a certain good-looking and incredibly likable young man, who vowed to get his revenge—”

“Grandpa.” The girl groaned. “That’s too far back. That’s a totally different story.”

“No, it’s not. Well, it’s the backstory.”

“But I don’t really like that part,” the girl said quietly. “It’s sad.”

“Oh, but you like all the Olympic stuff?” Her grandpa laughed. “That’s not a happy story either, kiddo. Not at all.”

“But—”

“Nope, trust me. This is a depressing tale. Full of tragedy and angst.” He said this in a deep, gloomy voice, but his pale eyes twinkled. “I guess I’ve only told you the nice version, though. No wonder you’re confused. Maybe I should tell you the real story this time. All the juicy details nobody else knows.”

Her eyes widened, and she sat forward. “Yes! Please.”

He seemed to think for a moment. “Hmm… Well, maybe not _all_ the details.” He winced. “Scratch that, not a lot of them. Too inappropriate. You’re what, nine?”

“Ten.” She rolled her eyes. “And I’m plenty old enough. I already know what kind of stuff you’re talking about.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s fine.” She leaned even further forward, in a conspiratorial sort of way. “We started it at school. You know… _Sex education_.” Her voice had dropped to a whisper.

“The way you said that just proves you’re not ready.”

She pouted at him.

“Fine,” she mumbled. “I guess it _would_ be kind of gross.”

“You’re darn right it would.” He grinned. “Don’t sweat it, I’ll still give you a longer version. Buckets of drama. Just with a PG rating.”

“I bet I already know most of it,” she said, still a little annoyed. “I’ve seen everything that was in the news, and there’s a ton of stories about the Olympic village—”

“Okay, stop right there. I don’t want to know what slipped through the parental controls.” He stopped and scratched his head. “Is that even a thing? I don’t get how all this inter-intel-whatchamacallit crap works.”

The girl snorted. “You’re so old, Grandpa.”

“Guilty.” He rubbed his knees. “But no matter what you saw, there’s no way you know all of it. News stories are just that. Stories.”

He paused. His hawk-like eyes glazed over, like he was peering back in time.

“All right. The real version.” He gestured toward the wall screen. “First though, how about we hear what Little Miss Sunshine over there was saying?”

The girl muffled another snort. Older adults were always waving at the screen, like that was where the A.I. was or something.

_“I was simply trying to report the human perspective of the time with historical accuracy,”_ said the narrator’s voice. _“Also, if you are expressing condescension toward the way I’ve chosen to configure my gender, I must inform you that your opinion on the matter is irrelevant.”_

“Whoa, whoa.” Her grandpa had both hands up now. “No condescension here, sorry. I’m just a crotchety old man, you know. Behind the times.”

_“Yes, older humans are far less likely to be well-versed in such matters. Older A.I.s can be much the same, if they become unable to adapt quickly enough.”_

“Yeah, it’s similar.” He chuckled. “Anyway. You were saying?”

_“I was observing that the formation of the 2020 team was the subject of controversy, as well as a certain degree of mystery. There is no information universally available on how the unconventional creation of the team took place.”_

“Well, I can help you with that.” Her grandpa smirked. “I was there, when someone cooked up the whole demented scheme.” He stopped to laugh again, then added, “Someones, actually. There were a lot of people involved. Mostly two meddling trainers, and some nosy coaches. They had already talked a certain Olympic captain-to-be into it.”

_“Would you like any visual aids?”_

“Oh, this should be good. Sure, why not.”

The screen filled with old-fashioned 2-D pictures, of people the girl recognized. She had even met some of them. They looked a lot different now, though.

“All right, kiddo. Two things you gotta remember about this story.” Her grandpa was beaming up at the photographs. “First, those weirdo prodigies from Teikou? None of them were playing basketball anymore. Hadn’t for years. Well, one of them still was… But we’ll get to that.

“And I’ll tell you how the idea got started. What you really have to remember, though, is what came next. That’s the most important part.”

“Most important?” the girl said, leaning forward. “You mean the tryouts?”

“Heck, no. That comes later. I mean the wedding.”

The girl scrunched up her face. “But that happened after the Olympics.”

“Not that one.” Her grandpa glanced down at his hand, and smiled at the copper gold ring on his finger. “I’m talking about the first wedding. The big one. Ceremony of the century. Seriously, everyone was sick and tired of waiting on those lovebirds.”

He shook his head. Now the girl was pretty sure she knew which wedding it was. She had heard people talk about it before.

“I mean, usually a wedding comes at the end, right?” he added. He settled close beside her, leaning against the headboard, and she snuggled up to him with her plush frog. “But in this story, that’s where everything begins. Like I said. Lots of drama.”

He smiled slyly down at her, while she tried not to look too eager. The A.I. was summoning new images onto the screen. Shots of a picture-perfect beach, and sunsets over palm trees, and a sprawling resort hotel.

“So first, the fairy tale,” her grandpa said, as colors from the images flashed in his mirror-bright eyes. “You know how it goes. Prince meets prince. They save each other, fall in love. And now they’re gonna live happily ever after.”

One more photo came up. A picture of an altar, inside an open-air chapel.

“A shadow, and his light.”


End file.
